


socks

by spiritedwhere



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Comedy, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Domestic arguing, Fluff, M/M, Socks, Victor spelled like Viktor, thats it tbh, yuri spelled like yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9825827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritedwhere/pseuds/spiritedwhere
Summary: Yuuri likes a lot of things. Socks just happen to be one of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ok so like on twitter last night for some reason i think em or me started on about socks and i just really wanted to write about socks and yuuri because it's the purest thing i can think of

Yuuri has a fondness for quite little things. Socks just happen to fall under that list.

He's practically overflowing all of his drawers with the amount of socks he owns. Some, funny prints and patterns. Others, woven with intricate stitches and detailing. He prides them, makes sure to always show off a new pair at any given moment.

It's become a hobby of sorts.

When the newest package arrives in the mail, Yuuri can't stop the rushed way he heads for his room, drops it onto the bed and makes for a pair of scissors. As he opens it, cutting swiftly through the tapes that bind the box close, Makkachin bounds onto the bed. He rests his head onto the pillow beside Yuuri, eyes alert and trained on the metal instruments in his owner’s hands.

The socks are new, straight from France. Knitted with imported alpaca wool, bleached and bright in his hands.

They're practically perfect, the most high end socks known to man currently. And they're all his.

Yuuri slides them on, feels the fresh fabric brush alongside his legs as they rise to reach just above his knee, just brushing against the shorts he wears. It's a comfort unlike any other, and he lets out a sigh of happiness. When both are on, he steps up, feeling the cushiony fabric onto his soles.

It's practically heaven.

When Yuuri walks out of his bedroom and makes for the hallway, he's cautiously aware of every speck of dirt, making sure the new and very, _very_ , white socks. Makkachin bounds next to him, tail wagging as he follows Yuuri into the living room.

When Yuuri examines the ground, he's pleased to know nothing's coating the ground, making for a safe descent towards the couch.

“Viktor, come look at my socks!” he calls out, beaming with every step. “Viktor? Where are you?”

“I'm in the kitchen,” comes the muffled reply. “I had to get paper towels to clean up the-“

“ _Spill_.”

Yuuri cringes as he steps into an unnoticed puddle. His foot is dipped throughly into a wet spot, coating it. As he moves, the fabric absorbs more, seeking into the inside of the sock and covering his skin. When Yuuri brings it upwards to view at the liquid, he feels his heart drop at the color.

It's red, artificial coloring so pigmented he's half in fear of it staining his foot.

The gasp he gives has about ten different movie stars running for their money.

“Yuuri, is everything fine?” As he hears the pattering of Viktor come near, Yuuri can barely look up. Instead, he points a finger to the spill almost accusingly.

“Viktor, really?”

“It was strawberry,” Viktor makes out, in the living room with the paper towels held almost guiltily in his hands. “You know how much I like that…”

When his eyes glance at the stain left on Yuuri’s socks, his voice raises an octave. “Those don't… they aren't the… the new-“

“Yes,” Yuuri makes out. He plops onto the couch and begins to take off the sock, staring at it sadly. Makkachin makes for the puddle, tongue already out and ready to drink. Viktor slaps a hand down and cleans up the mess, stopping the dog from having another incident.

“I'll send out an order for a new one,” Viktor tells him as he cleans. “You know I always spill stuff in the house.”

“Yeah, but that's why we have coasters on the table.”

“The table is too far away from the couch. And I promise, I'll buy you a new pair, so new it'll look like nothing happened to those.”

Yuuri looks down at Viktor as he rubs the floor, socks held in his grip.

He sighs, face turning into a pout as he begins his dramatic complaints. “It won't be the same,” Yuuri starts, voice drawling out the words. “I waited _two weeks_ for these.”

“I'll fly out there personally if you want me to.”

Another sigh. “No, these were _limited edition_. They stopped selling them _just_ a few days ago.”

“I'll buy you a better pair?”

“These came in a matching set. I even ordered some for Makkachin to wear. Now, he won't even have anybody to wear them with.”

“If I contact Lilia, maybe she'll know a way to get out the stain?”

Yuuri practically slaps a hand over his forehead, making sure to drag out Viktor’s attempts at fixing the mishap as long as possible. “These were _alpaca wool_. Do you know how hard it is to get a stain out of alpaca wool?”

“Okay, so you're a bit mad,” Viktor starts. “But it's not like they're totally ruined.”

Yuuri takes the other sock off, holds them in his hands. “Yeah, maybe.” He gives a smile, teasing and wicked. “But it's a shame. I got these just for you. You should've seen them on me when they were good.”

Come ten minutes later, Viktor and Yuuri are seated on the couch, laptop propped between them and Viktor’s credit card in hand, a high-end fashion store showing options.

“So, you said these were like those socks?”

“Practically a perfect match.”

He doesn't tell Viktor they are.

 

**Author's Note:**

> @inuyashas_ on twitter


End file.
